


LP5 - "I Get A Kick Out Of You/Says My Heart"

by MovesLikeBucky



Series: Wasteland Jukebox [6]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, POV Alternating, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 12:32:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16723467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MovesLikeBucky/pseuds/MovesLikeBucky
Summary: Three months have passed since they confronted Kellogg.  Things are changing around the Commonwealth; the influences of the Brotherhood and the Institute hang over everyones heads.  The Minutemen are stronger than ever, and Preston and Sofia are closer than ever.  Initial feelings of infatuation are turning into something more.If only either of them knew what to do with that exactly.





	1. I Get A Kick Out Of You

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! Stopping by with my usual thanks-for-reading message because I love seeing the view counts on this silly little story that I'm writing mainly for myself.
> 
> I love and appreciate everyone who takes the time to look at my silly little fics! Hopefully y'all will enjoy this one, I wanted to do something a bit fluffy since the last one was kind of dark.

_I get a kick every time_

_I see you standing there before me_

_I get a kick, though it's clear to see_

_You obviously do not adore me_

([I Get A Kick Out Of You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ueIRPDAbPNY) \- Frank Sinatra)

 

Preston took his nightly patrols around Sanctuary _very_ seriously.  Ever since Quincy and the journey that followed, he couldn’t get any semblance of sleep without making sure nothing was lurking in the shadows.

Every night he was in Sanctuary, he went over his checklist:

     Defenses operational:  Check.

     Guard tower night shift in place:  Check.

     Vacant houses checked for hostiles:  Check.

     Check in on all the residents:  Check, everyone accounted for except for one.

He stopped in front of Sofia’s house on the edge of the cul-de-sac.  Three months ago, he’d thought he would lose her, but now she seemed to be adjusting better.

As he looked towards her house, with its darkened windows and no movement, he couldn’t help but wonder what she was up to right now. He knew she had been checking out a couple of leads for new settlements and some places she thought might have some good scrap; travelling with a couple of her friends from Diamond City. It had been a week and he missed her more than he’d like to admit.

Things had fallen into a pattern of comfortable normalcy for them.  They had made a system.  If he were patrolling and saw Sofia’s porch light on, she needed to talk to someone.

He would do the same with the light on his guard house.  Same signal for some of the same problems, but now with the support he’d wished he had asked her for months ago.  He still didn’t quite think he deserved it.

Preston knew more about Sofia’s troubles now, about her life before the war.  About how thin her work and her home life had spread her, and how that had affected her life. He, in turn, had told her about his feelings of failure since Quincy, how it bubbled just under the surface, always threatening to come out.  He hadn’t told her the worst; he wasn’t ready for that.  He felt a little selfish, not opening up that part of himself to her.  He tried not to think about that.  After hearing her confess her suicidal thoughts to Nate, he still couldn’t bring himself to put that particular burden of his on her.

But in the Commonwealth, there’s plenty of burden to go around.

Sofia told him that they used to have medicine for this kind of stuff.  For the depression and the anxiety.  Not a perfect solution, but it helped a little.  Even if that sort of thing existed now, Preston had his doubts that there would ever be enough to go around.  Most people had their own form of hopelessness here; hard not to.

He took a couple of moments, staring at her empty house. She’d be back soon.  At least, he hoped she would be.  Her house was always the last stop on patrol.  He could finally turn in for the night.

He walked across the cul-de-sac to his guard house.  It had been a long night, which wasn’t unusual. But it was calm; nice and clear.  He could name every constellation he saw, a piece of knowledge he prided himself on.  And tonight was so clear he had to stop himself from staying outside to do just that.

He took off his hat and duster, hanging them on a couple of stray nails that jutted out of the wall.  Building things from scrap tended to result in some _unique_ attributes.  Namely the jagged walls with their splinters and chicken wire; punctuated by varying gaps that he affectionately called ‘windows’.  He took a moment to go over his other checklist:

     Laser musket nearby:  Check.

     Plenty of ammo:  Check.

     Door locked:  Check.

     Radio check-in from Sofia for the night:  Nope, not tonight.

Sometimes when the day was particularly bloody or difficult, she’d forget to radio in; but inevitably he’d hear from her the next morning. He relied on her, and he was pretty sure she relied heavily on him as well.  Hell, the whole Commonwealth seemed to be relying on them these days.

The reports of synth imposters were increasing, aided by an incident near Lexington.  A settler from Bunker Hill named Art had gotten into a very public altercation with…well…himself.  The altercation left only one standing, and synth components were found on the body of the other. Piper had a field day; she’d never sold so many copies of Publick Occurrences.  Suddenly the threat of synth replacement was entirely real and entirely possible.  If Bunker Hill, one of the most fortified and self-sustained settlements in the Commonwealth, could be infiltrated by synths, it could happen anywhere.

To add to this, the Brotherhood of Steel had started patrolling the more populated areas.  Mayor Hancock of Goodneighbor had tried to strike some kind of deal with them to keep them out, but they wouldn’t even speak to him.  Said they didn’t associate with ‘his kind’.  A few days later, one of the mayor’s own patrols was found dead just outside Lexington.  The burns on their bodies were consistent with the kind you’d get from lasertech: the preferred weapons of the Brotherhood.  Mayor Hancock was sure it wasn’t a coincidence, and Preston had agreed with him.

The more Preston heard about the Brotherhood, and the more he and Sofia tried to interact with them, the less he liked them.  The Minutemen had also been attempting to speak with their leader, Elder Maxson, but had been met with complete radio silence. 

Between the Brotherhood and the synths, people were getting nervous. They were scared for their livelihoods and their families.  This combined with the spread of the settlement network had led to an even bigger increase in volunteers for the Minutemen, which he and Sofia had been grateful for.

Sofia had thrown herself into the Minutemen’s work even more than before; doing everything in her power to make things a little better around the network.  She had personally made sure every settlement had better defenses and functioning radio beacons; that their scavengers and provisioners had better weapons.  She had told Preston that she wanted _everyone_ under their protection to feel absolutely sure they really would get help at a minute’s notice; even if part of that help was to help themselves. 

The altercation with Kellogg seemed to light a fire in her; one that had garnered her a reputation as a one-woman army when it came to protecting settlements.  Especially with her hands-on approach to dealing with major threats.  That reputation had started to precede her, and Preston couldn’t be prouder.  But they both knew she couldn’t do it alone; she’d need someone behind the scenes making sure everything stayed in working order.

That’s how he had fallen into the role of dispatcher.  His mind for tactics and his knack for reading people let him take to the job like a fish to water.  He’d radio the patrols and send them where they were needed; he’d make sure that they were spread out enough that help was never far away from any settlement in their network.  He’d also worked hard to make sure the people _on_ those patrols worked well together.  He personally built each patrol team based on the recruits’ strengths and weaknesses, making sure they complimented each other in a way that made sense.  They now had fifteen patrol teams, each made up of two members.  Most of the time these would be sent when settlements were in danger.  If the danger was bad enough, that’s when he sent in the General.

They had found an old map of Boston and the surrounding areas at the Red Rocket up the road, and he now had it hanging on his wall.  It wasn’t as nice as the huge map that used to hang in the General’s office at the main headquarters, but he liked having it just the same.  Besides, no one had been back to the Castle in years.  Not since the infestation.

Sturges had scrounged up a bunch of the smaller nails he didn’t have much use for, and Sofia had painted them different colors for different things.  Larger yellow nails for settlements, red for known danger areas, unpainted for known Brotherhood patrols, and blue for Minutemen patrol locations.  He’d added one more of his own, a single green one for Sofia’s last known location. 

She had laughed at him for that, but it gave him some piece of mind.  They had gotten pretty damn organized in the last few months, and that was in large part thanks to her.  It’d be really stupid to lose her to raiders or Gunners or what have you just because he didn’t make a note of her last known location.

To put it bluntly, Preston admired the _hell_ out of his General.  In fact, admired might not be the right word.  Adored might work better.

 _Who knows,_ Preston thought to himself as he stared at the map, tapping on the little green dot, taking stock of everything else on it, _Maybe…someday, when all this is over…_

He let the thought dissipate before it could finish. These weren’t his thoughts to have; she wasn’t his to pine for.  She definitely wasn’t his to adore, not in the way he wanted to.  Not in the way he sometimes desperately wished he could. 

She had been such a breath of fresh air in this hell of a place.  Now every time he stopped to think about what he might actually _want_ out of his life, the only thing he could think of was everything he wanted to do for her.  How he wanted to be the shoulder she could lean on.  Or the one to kiss her at the end of the day and be the last thing she sees before she drifts to sleep, knowing she’s safe with him around. Or the one to hold her close when the world felt like it was collapsing around them, which was what it felt like more often than not around here.  He wanted to be there for her, after it was all over, when she had Shaun back and existence could be less about fighting and more about surviving. 

The whole point was moot; Preston really didn’t think a woman like her could love a guy like him anyway.  It was obvious to him, she couldn’t adore him that way.

He settled in to get some much-needed rest, hoping this would be one of the nights his nightmares didn’t haunt him.  Despite the relative safety of Sanctuary and his newfound hopefulness, he still had them some nights.  His mind was still wandering around; he tried to keep it from landing on her, but it was useless.  She was all he could think about these days.

Preston drifted to sleep still thinking of the blue angel of a vault dweller who had infiltrated everything about his life, and in doing so had turned it upside down in the best possible way.

 

////

Preston twirled Sofia out in time with the music and brought her back to him, wrapping his arm tight around her waist.  Her arm was on his shoulder, her other hand intertwined with his as they swayed around the room.  Some song by ‘Old Blue Eyes’, as Sofia called him, drifted from the jukebox in the corner, but he wasn’t paying much attention to it.

They swayed this way and that, holding each other close; a small moment of quiet in this crazy, messed up world.  But a moment that was theirs.

If anyone else was there, Preston couldn’t tell.  Truth be told, he didn’t care.  Not as long as she was in his arms, smiling and laughing.

“You’ve gotten a lot better at this since Goodneighbor,” he said to her while they were cheek to cheek, whispering it like a secret.

She laughed softly, “Well, I have an excellent teacher.”

“Oh, really now?”  Preston spun her around again, taking a quick moment to plant a kiss on her cheek when she came back.

Sofia smiled at him and he noticed her cheeks go pink, “Mmhmm, he’s just wonderful.  Super patient, light on his feet.  Not bad to look at either.”

“Is that so?  Better be careful, might make me jealous.”  He let go of her hand so he could wrap both of his arms around her waist.

“You’re right, he might be real trouble for you.” Sofia quipped as she linked her arms behind his neck and they held each other even closer, their dancing slowing to little more than a small sway back and forth.  “He’s tall, dark, and handsome; has a goofy hat but makes it look charming.  He does a mean Silver Shroud impression, too.”

“Sounds like trouble,” Preston reached up to brush a stray lock of hair out of her face, “Guess I’ll just have to keep you even closer then.”

Sofia lessened the distance between their faces, speaking low and sultry, “Oh no, I don’t know if I could stand that.”

He pressed his forehead to hers, gazing deep into her eyes, and whispered, “Well I hope you can, cuz I really don’t wanna let you go any time soon.”

Sofia sighed and laid her head on his shoulder.  Preston kissed her forehead and held her as tight as he could, living for this moment and knowing he could die happy right now, just with this.

“Preston?” Sofia looked up at him.  He could get lost in those eyes of hers, so deep and mysterious.

“Yeah, babe?”

“Preston?” She said again, almost breathlessly.  He could feel his heart beat even faster.

He laughed, “Yeah, what is it, babe?”

For a third time she spoke his name, but why did she sound like Sturges?

 

He was awoken with a start by someone knocking on his door. The sun was streaming in from between the boards.  What the hell time was it, anyway?

“Preston, buddy!” Shouted Sturges, “You alive in there? Marcy’s out here throwing a fit cuz you were supposed to help plant tatos at nine and it’s almost noon!”

Goddammit, he must’ve been more tired than he’d realized. He stared at the patchwork ceiling for a moment, trying to gather his hazy thoughts.  He had promised to help out the Longs with the farming this morning and after that to do some repairs on Gertie’s storefront.  No surprise Marcy was pissed.

“Yeah, sorry,” he grumbled loudly, sitting on the edge of his bed and rubbing his eyes while Sturges banged on the door again, “I’m up, I’m up.”

“Ain’t got all day, buddy!” Sturges said, laughing, “Better hurry up before she comes and gets you herself!”

Preston would’ve liked to stay in that dream just a little longer, but he had promises to keep today.  He got dressed and slung his musket over his shoulder.  He heard banging at his door again.

“Sturges, I said I’m coming!”

He swung the door open, annoyed.  To his surprise he was met with, not Sturges, but the General.

“Damn, Cowboy, don’t bite my head off.”  Sofia flashed him a grin as she raised an eyebrow at him, one hand on her hip.

“Sofia!” Preston felt like he’d been kicked in the chest, “when did you get back?”

“This morning,” she said, “Found so much scrap on my way around, wanted to drop it off.  Figured I’d check in on my favorite soldier.”  He hoped that she didn’t notice his face go a little red.

“Well, I-” he quickly corrected himself, “ _We’re_ glad you’re back.  Still running around with Piper?”

“What, no,” She laughed, “That was days ago!  Nah, did her interview, and helped Nicky-boy with a couple cases at Fenway.”

He chuckled; she never could wrap her mind around ‘Diamond City’, she said it used to be called Fenway Park back in the day and that there were some things you just didn’t mess with.  ‘ _Some things are just sacred and that’s that,’_ she had told him with a huff the last time he’d attempted to correct her.

“Sounds like you’ve been busy, General.” He started towards the farming area and she followed.  No matter how much he’d rather spend the day catching up with her, he had promises to keep.

“Yep,” she smiled as they walked, “And there’s the settlements, too.  I’m happy to report we have two new additions joining the trade network.”

“That’s great!  That brings us up to, what, fifteen?” He asked and she nodded in agreement, “Tell me all about them.”

“Greentop Nursery has a good farming operation going already, just needed some extra protection.  Had some problems with Gunners, took care of them.  They’re already producing way more food than they need, so they joined in exchange for access to supplies to build better housing.”

“Glad to have them with us then, we can always use more food production.” He waved at Sarah, passing by on her way to her weapons shop, “Always good to have less Gunners in the world, too.  What’s the other one?”

“A tiny farm over near the old airport.  It’s a small family, the Nordhagen’s.  They had a hell of a mirelurk problem when I got there, but nothing me and Nick couldn’t handle.  They don’t have much, but they’re literally right across the water from the airport, and that’s where the Brotherhood base of operations is.”

“Good vantage point in case things escalate.”

“Precisely what I was thinking.”

They walked together in relative silence; Preston was feeling just a little awkward, waking up from that dream to see Sofia back in Sanctuary.  He’d had plenty of similar dreams lately; but the gaps between them were becoming shorter and shorter, and they were becoming more vivid every time. 

Sometimes they’d be dancing.  Sometimes they’d be in Diamond City or in Goodneighbor on a date. Sometimes it was them helping settlements together.  One that kept coming back was them at the Castle, in the General’s quarters.  He felt his face grow warm again; that one was his favorite, but he wasn’t going to share those details with anyone any time soon.

It was starting to drive him just a little crazy; he shouldn’t be thinking about her that way.  He’d been trying to put it out of his mind since Goodneighbor, when his forwardness and bad judgement had almost gotten Kent _and_ them killed.  It wasn’t good for him to harbor these feelings, but with every passing day it got harder and harder to push them away. 

“So what have you got planned for the day, Cowboy?” She said, elbowing him playfully in the side.

“Farm work, some repairs around town.  It’s been pretty quiet around here.”

“Good,” she said as they approached the farming area where the Longs were already hard at work, “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to this place.”

He watched her face as she stared into the distance, lost in thought.  Her eyes sparkled when she was deep in her own mind, and it was one of his favorite things to see.

“I should probably go help Marcy before she kills me,” Preston said, not really wanting to leave.  Unfortunately, he could already feel Marcy’s annoyance from this side of the farming land.

“Yeah, I have a few things to do myself, mainly I found a couple new power armor pieces.  Can you believe the Brotherhood just leaves this shit lying around?” She turned to look at him as she walked away, and he found himself struggling to remember how it had felt to look into her eyes in that dream.  “But we could meet up later,” she grinned at him, “Sometime after you’re done being everyone in town’s hero?”

“Sounds great to me.”  Preston had been hoping they’d be able to catch up.

“Good, it’s a date then.”  He noticed a faint tinge make its way across her cheeks, “I mean…you know what I mean.  I’ll see you soon!”

She hurried away towards the makeshift garage Sturges had built to store power armor frames.  Preston stood there watching her leave, unable to break his gaze away.  Had he imagined that?  No, he hadn’t, but that didn’t mean anything.  It _couldn’t_ mean anything.  He was broken from his stupor by someone clearing their throat.

“If you don’t _mind,_ Preston,” Marcy said as she walked over, he could already feel the daggers she was throwing with her stare, “If you’re done ogling people you shouldn’t be ogling, you were supposed to be here three hours ago.”

“Huh, oh, right,” he stammered, “Sorry Marcy, I overslept.  Sturges just woke me up a little bit ago.”

“Let him be, Marcy,” Jun said, “You know he stays up all night, let him get some sleep once in a while.  Besides, he’s here now, and we have tatos to plant.”

“Just tell me where to start,” Preston said, smiling at them and trying to ignore the look on Marcy’s face.  He knew that she was onto him, but what was the point?  Nothing had happened – nothing _was_ going to happen – so the information was pretty much useless.

Didn’t stop him from wondering how the hell she knew. He thought he’d been keeping his feelings hidden quite nicely.  At the very least, Sofia didn’t seem to notice.  Which was better for the both of them.

When it came to Sofia, he definitely got a kick out of her. When she was gone, he missed her, and his feelings got even stronger.  When she came back, he was so happy to see her that his feelings got even stronger still; despite the pure and obvious fact he shouldn’t be having them at all.

He shouldn’t be having these feelings as he watched Sofia working with Sturges as a small piece on the power armor they were working on over-pressurized and flew off, pinging around the small makeshift garage.  He watched her face go from a look of shock while they ducked for cover as it ricocheted around the room and then the immediate fallout into uproarious laughter.  As he watched her lips curl into that crooked grin she wore so well, focusing on planting tatos was the furthest thing from his mind.

He shouldn’t be having these feelings when, a little later, he was trying to help Gertrude hang a new sign on her trading post.  This wasn’t inherently anything difficult; but from where he was, he had the perfect view of Sofia playing with Dogmeat. She’d found an old teddy bear somewhere and Dogmeat had decided it was his.  Now they were locked in the most intense tug-of-war battle he’d ever seen a person have with a dog.  She was on the ground, pulling as hard as she could on the stuffed bear.  Dogmeat growled and wagged his tail, having the time of his life.  The pup won out in the end and she just laid down in the road, scruffing the dog’s ears as he licked her face, the toy completely forgotten.

 _If someone told me that’s what heaven sounds like,_ he thought as he listened to her laughing and cooing at Dogmeat in a singsong voice, _I’d be hard pressed not to believe them._

He shook his head and tried to refocus.  He had work to do, and this wasn’t helping.

“You know, Mr. Garvey,” Gertrude said, interrupting his thoughts, “Most times things work better when you tell people how you feel. Just a thought.”

“I…uh…I’m…not sure what you’re talking about,” he stuttered, taken aback.  God dammit was it really that obvious?  Now Gertrude could see it?  He wondered how many other people in town were starting to get ideas.

“Oh, you might be able to fool some of the young’uns, son,” she said, holding the sign as steady as she could, “But us old bats like me and Murphy have been around the block a few too many times not to notice.”

“ _If_ , and that’s a big if,” Preston said as he hammered in the last nail on the sign, “If there were any kind of…romantically inclined feelings there – which there aren’t – it wouldn’t matter because she’s my commanding officer and that wouldn’t be professional of either of us.”

Gertrude shrugged her shoulders, “Suit yourself, son. But I’m pretty sure military protocol fell out with the bombs; pretty sure she’d think the same.  Either way, thanks for the help.  Wasn’t ever gonna get that thing hung up by myself.”

“No trouble at all, Gertrude.  Always happy to lend a hand.”

He looked back and Sofia and Dogmeat were gone.  The sun was starting to go down and he wondered to himself where exactly today had gone.  Preston didn’t like getting a late start, but at least he could look forward to a good ending.

Feelings or no, he always enjoyed the time he spent with Sofia.  It didn’t matter if they were on the road or here in Sanctuary, or really anywhere else for that matter.  Having her around was nice.  Sure, he counted the settlers here among his friends, but it was different with her. She had this effervescence about her; it just made everything light.

He started his rounds a couple of hours earlier than he had the night before, hoping to prevent a repeat of the morning.  He hadn’t slept that late in, what was it, months? Years, maybe?  If the Minutemen were going to continue on the upward trajectory Sofia had started them on, he couldn’t be doing that.

He wasn’t surprised to see her front window light; she’d already invited him over, after all.  These past few months had been eye-opening to say the least.  He’d always regarded Sofia as an extremely strong woman, ever since their chance meeting in Concord.  But the things he’d learned since that night in the vault put her in a new light for him.

Sofia threw herself into helping people so she wouldn’t have to deal with her own problems; she’d done the same before the war.  It had led to arguments with her husband and her family about how much time she sank into her job.  From what he could tell, from the way she talked about it, her job was worth sinking a lot of time into.  Helping those who can’t help themselves, the pre-war way.  She had told him about case after case, and these stories just made him even more confident in his decision to make her the General.

He had learned she’d struggled with suicidal thoughts since she was a teenager.  Her family had been poor and barely survived the resource wars.  She had tried to be strong, but it had always seemed nothing would get better.  Sofia had told him she often thought about ending it all in the days before she joined the army.

He hoped to hear more about how things were before the bombs, but just being with her would be enough.  Preston enjoyed her presence; she made everything seem calmer. 

He hoped she’d stick around for a while this time.  Recently she only stayed in Sanctuary for a few days, maybe a week at a time.

He made his way to her house and knocked on the door.

“It’s open, you can come in,” he heard from the other side, along with a faint clinking of metal.  He opened the door and found her sitting on the ground with her back against the ratty old sofa, disassembling and cleaning her favorite .44 pistol on the coffee table.  Her hair was down, out of its usual tight bun.  Her usual combat armor was gone, too.  It always surprised him to see her like this, but he was glad to see her relax for once.  Dogmeat, too, was relaxing so hard on the couch that he was asleep with his paws up in the air.

“Hey,” he closed the door behind him, while watching for anyone who might be watching them.  After what Marcy and Gertrude had said, he didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.  “How’re you hanging in there, General?”

“How many times do I have to tell you,” she smiled but didn’t look up from the pieces of Callahan, “In my house, it’s Sofia.  None of this ‘General’ business.”

“Fair enough, it’s easy for me to forget,” he walked into the remnants of what was a kitchen, to the fridge Sturges had magically managed to get working again, “I’ll start over then, how’re you hanging in there, Sofia?”

“Not bad,” she said as she cleaned the cylinder of her gun, “You know how it is, we take it day by day.”  She looked up and smiled at him, but he could see she was worried about something.  “What about you, Cowboy, how’s your head today?”

“A little muddled,” he said as he dug through the bottles, finally finding what he’d been looking for, “But that’s just because I overslept.  Other than that, it’s like you said; day by day.”  He offered her one of the two Gwinnetts he’d found, which she accepted. The first time they had one of these talks, he’d told her more about Quincy, about how he felt like it was all his fault.  She’d told him about the arguments that seemed frivolous now that had seemed to rule her home in the days leading up to the war.  These days, it was more about comfortable company.  It was bad enough in the wasteland without feeling alone on top of it.  Still, he couldn’t help but notice the far off look on her face.

“Sofia, you look like you’ve got something on your mind besides taking it ‘day by day’.” He sat on the old sofa, propping his feet up on the table, “What’s bothering you?”

“That obvious, huh?” 

He nodded.  She sighed and switched pieces, “I think someone’s been following me.  I noticed them the first time in Goodneighbor, second time at Fenway hiding among the guards.  Same guy with the same shitty sunglasses keeps showing up everywhere I go, and I’ll be honest, I don’t like it.”

Preston furrowed his brow as he sipped his beer, he didn’t like the sound of this.

“Can’t say I’m a fan either, do you think it’s a Brotherhood soldier?”

“No, Not loud enough,” she said, “Even without the power armor, every Brotherhood soldier I’ve ever seen can’t go five seconds before screaming that shitty catchphrase.  Might be a synth, but I don’t know.”

“You said he’s been in multiple places,” Preston said, “Maybe he’s multiple synths of the same person.”

“Oh lord, that’s the last thing we need.  It’s bad enough that stuff that happened with Art,” she shook her head.  Sofia yawned and stretched her arms up over her head, “Then we’ll have synth replacements for the synth replacements for the people.”

“Well whatever it is, just be careful out there, okay?”

She laughed, “What’s the matter, Garvey?  Afraid you’re gonna lose me?”

 _Yes,_ he thought.  He was still vaguely hung up on earlier, when she had called this a date.  “I mean, you do seem to run headlong into things that you probably shouldn’t.”

“Hey, you’re the one who sends me.” She said with that damn grin, “I just clear out the raider dens and supermutant nests.”

“Fair point.”

She had her head cocked to one side, concentrating on the task at hand.  Preston couldn’t stop himself from wondering what it would be like if this was life; quiet evenings, cold beer, and his favorite person.  He’d never thought about someone like this before; like the future was something tangible. 

It had always been just a little too far for him to even grasp the concept of a future for himself; much less a future with another person.  He’d been with people, sure.  But it had never really been for real.  As much as he may have cared about anyone, he had always felt as though he lived on borrowed time.  Being in the Minutemen was a dangerous job.  He always had this fear in the back of his mind, that if he ever did give himself fully to another person, they’d either have to watch him die or hear about it from Col. Hollis.  

It wasn’t so much about him not putting another person through that, it was more that he didn’t want to have anything waiting for him. That way, if the time ever came to make the hard choice, he wouldn’t have anything to keep him from making it.

He didn’t dwell on these thoughts for long; the radio on his belt started buzzing.

“Duty never sleeps, huh, Cowboy?” Sofia said as she started reassembling her pistol, satisfied with the maintenance on it.  He shook his head as the voice came over

“This is Abernathy farm calling for the Minutemen, we need help!”

“This is Garvey, go ahead Blake.”

“We’ve got some ferals comin’ round causing us trouble, second time this week.”

Preston looked at Sofia, who nodded at him.  She got up from the coffee table and disappeared down the hall.  Feral ghouls weren’t usually something he’d send her for, but if she wanted to go, he’d be hard pressed to stop her.

“Copy that, Blake, the General herself is on her way to help.  Garvey out.”

Sofia returned, hair back in a bun and combat armor back in place.  “So much for that peaceful night’s sleep at home.”

“I could send one of the patrols, it’s just ferals.”

He watched her rub the back of her neck.  She was obviously exhausted, and he’d rather her stay home and relax, “Yeah, but it’s Abernathy.  How am I supposed to live with myself if I’m literally less than twenty minutes away and I don’t go?”

“Well,” he said, wishing he could convince her to stay, “I can’t argue with that, but it’s a shame you’re leaving so soon.”

“What do you mean, Cowboy,” she crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow at him, “You’re coming with me, aren’t ya?”

“Just point me to it, General.” He said as a big smile spread across his face.  He might not be able to keep her here, but he’d follow her anywhere she could ever want to go.


	2. Says My Heart

_Fall in love, fall in love, says my heart_

_It's romance, take a chance, says my heart_

_But each time that I'm almost in your arms_

_This ol' schoolteacher brain of mine_

_Keeps ringing in false alarms_

([Says My Heart](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=btsh9fB1EsU) \- The Andrews Sisters)

 

Sofia had to admit, she liked the view.  She was only half listening to Sturges, her eyes fixated on the farming area across the street by the old playground.

 _Honestly,_ she thought as she kept turning her wrench, tightening one of the pressure valves of her T-51’s hydraulics tighter and tighter, _He has no business looking that good while planting tatos._

Preston was helping the Longs with the farming after getting a late start.  Sofia wasn’t sure _why_ she was staring, just that she couldn’t stop.  The midday sun was hitting him just the right way.  Sometimes, like now, she got caught off guard by just how handsome he was. 

Her thoughts had been turning to him even more in recent days.  What she had thought was purely infatuation and touch-starved frustration was proving to have the potential to be more than that.  She had finally found something… _casual_ …just to try to get past her urges.  It had helped, but now new ones had taken their place.

Instead of urges to be pinned to a wall by those strong arms of his, now she was having urges to just exist in the same place as him. To talk to him, to make him laugh, anything that involved spending time with him.  Really specific, sappy things, too.  She wanted him to teach her to dance, she wanted to plant a fucking garden with him, she wanted to go on a picnic. 

 _Really, Sofia,_ she thought, _a fucking picnic, what are you, twelve?_

It was actually annoying her quite a bit.

Sofia was the General, she couldn’t afford these distractions.  She had been taking the job very seriously in the past few months, and her time in the army had taught her how things could go very, _very_ wrong when a commanding officer started a relationship with a subordinate.

She’d been down that road once, before Nate.  Her name was Lucretia, and when shit hit the fan at West-Tec…well, that was a bad story for another day.

She refocused and powered on the T-51, not realizing she’d tightened the valves too much.  That’s when the hose for the hydraulic system she’d been working on sprang loose, sending the connector valve flying around the ramshackle garage.

“What in the goddamn!” Sturges yelled as he ducked behind the armor bench.  The small metal connector pinged between walls and beams, ricocheting like a bullet. Sofia ducked behind her power armor, laughing like a maniac.  The connector found its final place of rest as it flew out through the large gap between the walls.

“Well, you don’t see that every day,” said Sofia as she stood, taking off her work gloves and stuffing them into her back pocket, “Two hundred years, can’t really be surprised at faulty hydraulics.”

“Yeah, because  _that’s_ what it was,” Sturges crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at her, “You sure it wasn’t because you were distracted?”

“What?” she said, eyes going wide, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“C’mon now, Kiddo,” Sturges said with a smirk, “I notice _everything_ around here, don’t think I don’t notice your preoccupation with a certain Minuteman.”

“Well whatever you think you’re noticing, you’re not.” She said with a huff, “Also, don’t call me Kiddo, I’ve got at least 170 years on you, buddy.”

“Yeah, but you annoy me like a kid sister.”

She crossed her arms and furrowed her brow, sticking her tongue out at him.  Her and Sturges had become almost like siblings; he’d fallen rather easily into the annoying-big-brother role.  

“Whatever you say, Kiddo,” Sturges laughed as he turned to leave, “Either way, things need fixin’ around here, and they ain’t gonna wait all day for me.”

“Pssh,” she scoffed, “You mean you actually _fix_ things?  I thought you just hammered in one spot on a wall all day!”

He shrugged as he walked away.  Now Sofia was left alone in the garage with her thoughts.

 _Stupid Sturges,_ she thought as she stooped to pick up the wayward connector, _thinks he knows everything._

He wasn’t wrong, though.  She had been distracted.  She’d been distracted quite a bit lately, even on her travels.  No matter who she was with or what she was doing, she still found herself thinking of him.  Wondering how he was doing, if the patrols were cooperating.  Thinking about their night time conversations these past few months.  Thinking about his laugh and his smile and his voice and…

 _Steady there,_ she said to herself, _not right now._ She went back to the T-51, stealing occasional glances towards the fields.

She would _like_ to say she was over her crush, that this was just her admiring a good friend who just happened to be a handsome man.

She’d _like_ to say that she didn’t think about him while she helped repair the Nordhagens’ house.  Seeing the happy family; the parents doing their best to make a life for their son.  The son being a perfectly happy and healthy kid.  It was bittersweet for her, bringing the sadness she felt about Shaun up to the surface.  She found herself nostalgic for a life she hadn’t been able to have.  A happy, loving family.  Herself, and Shaun, and for some reason her mind kept putting Preston with them instead of Nate.  She supposed that, at least, meant she was starting to heal from his death.

She’d _like_ to say her mind didn’t gravitate back to Goodneighbor and that whole crazy situation.  She’d gotten way too comfortable then, but he had almost seemed to enjoy it.  And when he had kissed her hand, for fuck’s sake. She could have sworn she still felt the ghost of his lips there as she rubbed the back of her hand absentmindedly.

She’d _like_ to say she still only thought of him as a friend, as though that had been true at all since long before he had asked her to be the General.  That this was nothing; that it couldn’t be anything. That if she just ignored it long enough it would go away on its own.  That she wasn’t thinking about how being able to confide in him only made her like him more.  Wasn’t thinking about how he always looked her straight in the eyes when she spoke, almost like he was processing each word carefully.  She had never known anyone to fully, _truly_ listen to her like that before. 

She’d _like_ to say that she wasn’t thinking about how she was sure he was too good to be true, but at every turn he proved that he was just as good as advertised.

Sofia wanted to say any and all of those things, but she couldn’t.  Not without lying to herself, anyway.  She had already thought they were close before the Kellogg incident; but since then they had only gotten closer.  Late night conversations over Gwinnett about things that she didn’t dare talk about with anyone else.  Some things she’d never even talked about with Nate; there hadn’t been time in the end.

And now that Preston was confiding his problems in her, she was seeing him in a different light than before.  Sofia had noticed long ago when they first met that there was more to him than what was on the surface; the sadness hiding in those otherwise kind eyes. Something she’d seen in herself, in Nate, in old military buddies, and, after her time here, in so many people in this accursed place.  Some of the things he’d seen she couldn’t quite believe; some of the things he’d been through broke her heart in ways she didn’t know it could break.

He'd told her about his parents, and the raiders from Nuka-World.  How the Minutemen had taken him in when he had nowhere else to go.  He had been all of seventeen when his parents died.  He'd ran then, and felt guilty for it.  That guilt had followed him for the next fifteen years, never letting up; taking chances like Quincy to close the gap and try to overtake him.  She couldn't begin to imagine what it must've been like, to watch random people you've never even met kill your family and over what?  A few extra bottle caps?

It amazed her that, despite everything he’d been through, he still walked through the day with a smile on his face; putting the needs of everyone around him above his own.  Sofia had began to notice things about him that she hadn't before.  Most nights he wouldn’t eat until everyone else ate; and he wouldn't sleep until everyone else was asleep.  He would’ve been a rare person before the war, but in all of this?  She almost couldn’t believe she was lucky enough to _know_ someone like him, much less call him her friend.  She caught herself thinking these days of how she wouldn’t mind calling him more than that. Before she could ever let her heart get that far, her brain would interrupt with all of the reasons it could never happen.

A bark broke Sofia’s thoughts; Dogmeat had trotted over, tail wagging happily, with a ratty old stuffed bear that he’d found.

“Hey, boy,” she cooed at the pup, “Where’d you find that old thing?  Can I see it?”

As she reached to take the teddy bear from him, he let out a soft bark and jumped just out of reach.  It was on now.  She chased him as he ran off through the cul-de-sac, intent on playing tug of war with her favorite mutt.  She could use some play time after the stressful week she’d had.

 

////

Later that night, Sofia sat in her living room cleaning Callahan.  It had been a while and the gun was looking just a little too greasy for her tastes. In this place, you couldn’t afford a misfire or a jam.  Gun maintenance was crucial.

Dogmeat snoozed peacefully on the couch, worn out from the game of tug of war.  Once in a while he’d bark or whine softly and his legs would start kicking; she wondered if he was dreaming about chasing molerats.  Preston should be there soon.  Sofia had noticed something – _someone_ to be more specific – and she wanted his opinion. 

She heard a knock and shook her head, “It’s open, you can come in.”

“Hey,” Preston said, taking a quick look behind him, “How’re you hanging in there, General?”

“How many times do I have to tell you?  In my house, it’s Sofia.  None of this ‘General’ business.”  She laughed to herself while she cleaned the cylinder.  She had broken off an antenna from an old busted radio to use; worked pretty good to clean your gun if you rolled some cloth – for example, one of those worthless 10 dollar bills – around the end of it.

She’d lost count of how many times she’d told him that it wasn’t ‘General’ here.  And how many times she told him he didn’t have to knock.

“Fair enough, it’s easy for me to forget,” he said from the kitchen as she rolled her eyes, “I’ll start over then, how’re you hanging in there, Sofia?”

Sofia glanced over her shoulder, he was digging through the fridge for their usual Gwinnett.  “Not bad, you know how it is, we take it day by day.”  She went back to her cleaning, smiling to herself.  Preston couldn’t remember to call her by her name here, but he sure could waltz in like he owned the place.  “What about you, Cowboy, how’s your head today?”

“A little muddled, but that’s just because I overslept. Other than that, it’s like you said; day by day.”  He walked over and held a bottle out towards her, which she took from him without looking up. 

Preston sat on the couch and propped his feet up beside her on the coffee table.  _Yep,_ she thought, _just like he owns the damn place._

“Sofia, you look like you’ve got something on your mind besides taking it ‘day by day’.  What’s bothering you?”

“That obvious, huh?” she said, meeting his gaze as he nodded.

Sofia sighed and put down the cylinder, moving on to the bore of the barrel, “I think someone’s been following me.  I noticed them the first time in Goodneighbor, second time at Fenway hiding among the guards.  Same guy with the same shitty sunglasses keeps showing up everywhere I go, and I’ll be honest, I don’t like it.”

Preston frowned, “Can’t say I’m a fan either, do you think it’s a Brotherhood soldier?”

“No,” she put the barrel down and gently unscrewed the crane, “Not loud enough.  Even without the power armor, every Brotherhood soldier I’ve ever seen can’t go five seconds before screaming that shitty catchphrase.  Might be a synth, but I don’t know.”

“You said he’s been in multiple places,” Preston said, “Maybe he’s multiple synths of the same person.”

“Oh lord, that’s the last thing we need.  It’s bad enough that stuff that happened with Art,” she paused momentarily to yawn and stretch, “Then we’ll have synth replacements for the synth replacements for the people.”

“Well whatever it is, just be careful out there, okay?”

She couldn’t be sure, but she could’ve sworn his voice wavered there for a second.  Suddenly, she felt guilty.  Sofia knew he cared about her, at the very least as the General.  Maybe it had been harder on him than she’d thought; her coming and going all the time, never staying for more than a few days.  As usual, she decided to diffuse the situation with sarcasm.

“What’s the matter, Garvey?” She shot him an incredulous look, “Afraid you’re gonna lose me?”

“I mean,” he stammered, “You do seem to run headlong into things that you probably shouldn’t.”

“Hey,” she said, laughing as she screwed the crane back into place, “ _You’re_ the one who sends me. I just clear out the raider dens and supermutant nests.”

“Fair point,” he conceded.  If she didn’t know better, she’d say he was flustered.

Sofia had her head cocked to one side, concentrating on the task at hand.  If she leaned just a little bit further she could’ve rested her head on his knee. She let her mind wander for a moment, wondering just how he’d react to that.  Her hair was down, it usually wasn’t.  She wondered if he might run his fingers through it, how that might feel.  Maybe she’d just fall asleep like that; it’d be one way to keep him here in her house instead of that tiny shed he called home. And she _was_ pretty damn tired.

She’d almost found the resolve to go through with it when the radio on Preston’s belt started buzzing; almost like a warning alarm letting her know she was too close.  Almost at the same time, Dogmeat jumped up and started running through the house barking.  He hated the noise that little radio made. 

So much for her nerve; now that was completely gone. She sighed and started putting the other pieces of Callahan back together.  Abernathy was calling; feral attacks.

Preston glanced at Sofia and she nodded.  She walked down the hall and grabbed her combat armor from her bedroom.  Preston finished on the radio and looked at her, almost apologetically.

“So much for that peaceful night’s sleep at home," she said.  All of her time on the road lately meant sleep in a real bed, on a real mattress, was a rare treat.  One that she’d been looking forward to since she walked into town that morning.

“I could send one of the patrols,” Preston said, “It’s just ferals.”

“Yeah,” she said as she pulled her hair back up into a bun, “But it’s Abernathy.  How am I supposed to live with myself if I’m literally less than twenty minutes away and I don’t go?”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” she saw his face fall slightly as he spoke, “But it’s a shame you’re leaving so soon.”

She had made plenty of excuses for why she couldn’t bring him with her recently.  Most of them had been flimsy at best; they were her attempt at keeping these feelings at bay.  But seeing that look on his face and hearing that sadness in his voice…she _had_ missed him, after all.

“What do you mean, Cowboy? You’re coming with me, aren’t ya?”  She flashed a crooked grin his way, earning a smile from him.

“Just point me to it, General.”

 

////

Fighting off the ferals hadn’t been too bad.  Ferals were mostly stupid, the danger was in the numbers.  They tended to gravitate towards each other, making roving zombie-like hordes.  It didn’t take much to take them out, but they had still done a bit of a number on the Abernathy farm. 

Preston found out just how long she’d been without sleep, and he insisted that she take a nap while he started on repairs.  She’d tried to argue, but Blake had taken Preston’s side and they ganged up on her.

She honestly wouldn’t put it past Preston to make her take care of herself at gunpoint if he had to.  But she needed someone like that around, all too often she completely forgot about herself in the midst of everything else around her.

Sofia was in the tiny guest house out back, curled up under a sheet, hoping that if she just closed her eyes long enough, sleep would come back.  She’d been having a dream but couldn’t remember much about it.  Dancing?  Sinatra?  It was already fading, but she had a feeling it had been good, so she wanted to try to remember. 

She’d already slept until the sun was out, a good five hours she hadn’t had before.  It hadn’t come easy, though.  It probably would have, if he hadn’t said _that_ right before she walked over here.

 _Who does he think he is?_ She thought _, ‘See you after your nap, Sleepyhead’, where does he get off saying something like that?_ She pulled the thin sheet tighter around her.  It was hard enough not being able to act on any of these feelings, but really?  _Sleepyhead?_   That was adorable, and she hated it and loved it at the same time.

Preston confused her, to be sure.  She’d seen plenty of settlers try to flirt with him and he just shrugged them off.  Sometimes he'd say things that made her swear he was trying to flirt with her. But that just couldn’t be the case; given what he knew about her now, she couldn’t see any way that he would even think about being with someone like her.  They were friends, nothing more.

She gave up on getting any more sleep, deciding to get up and help with repairs.  As she sat on the edge of the bed stretching and yawning, Blake knocked on the side of the open doorframe.

“Got a cup of get-up-and-go for ya if you need it.”  He’d brought over what, in her opinion, had been the best thing about this farm joining their network.  Strong black coffee.

“Oh man, thanks,” she gratefully took the cup from him and inhaled deeply, “I need this.  Haven’t kicked that pre-war caffeine addiction yet.” 

Coffee wasn’t what it used to be, but after a while she had gotten used to it.  The farm the Abernathy’s called home had a stash of the instant stuff that had been buried in a bunker since before the war.  It was stale as hell, but it still got the job done.  They didn’t share the stash with the provisioners, but if she went by, they’d always give her a steaming hot cup.  “How are the repairs going?  Sorry I wasn’t able to help with them.”

“Don’t worry about it, General, you needed your rest. As far as repairs, the fence is already fixed, Mr. Garvey made short work of that.  Now that the sun’s out he’s working on a hole we’ve needed patched in the roof; turrets still need to be fixed, but that’s all that’s left.”

“That’s not too bad, I can get the turrets taken care of,” she blew the steam off the surface of the coffee then took a deep drink of it, “Mmm, but first, I have to love this coffee for a few minutes.”

Blake laughed and turned to leave, “Take your time, I don’t think we’ll have trouble with more ferals for a while.  You really should take a break once in a while. That boy worries about you like crazy you know.”

Sofia felt her cheeks go red.  She wondered what they’d talked about that made Blake say that.  Either way, not much time to rest.  She left the little guest house, taking her coffee with her, and headed around to the front of the house to check on the turrets.

What she saw when she got there nearly made her drop her coffee.

Preston was on the roof, just like Blake had said, but she would’ve appreciated some warning.  She was not awake enough yet to deal with seeing him shirtless for the first time.

He was kneeling down with his back to her, but even from her vantage point by the water trough, she could see how defined his arm muscles were. All that hard work in the wasteland had done him good, that was for sure.  She couldn’t look away; he was always in that duster, covering everything up. Now she could actually see his strong arms and broad shoulders.  He saw her when he looked over his shoulder.

“Good morning, General,” he made his way to the ladder that was propped against the porch, “Did you sleep well?” 

“Oh, uh,” she’d been caught, “Pretty good; guess I was sleepier than I thought.”

Now that he was off the roof, she couldn’t help but stare at him.  His abs weren’t chiseled, but he was obviously muscular.  More-so the kind that came with hard, honest work.  Not the kind that came with working out for the hell of it.  And he had just the right amount of hair on his chest.  Now her mind was racing with thoughts she _really_ shouldn’t be having. 

“I’m gonna, uh, go work on the turrets,” she stammered, feeling her face grow hot, “I, uh, I’ll let you get back to that.”

“You want some help?” he said, grinning at her, “I’m all done on the roof.”  The grin on his face made Sofia wonder if he was doing this on purpose.

“No, no, I think I’ve got it under control,” she was trying to look anywhere except directly at him, “Why don’t you go get yourself some coffee?  Blake just brought me some, it’s really good today.”

“Good idea,” he said, stretching his arms over his head while she tried not to look, “I’m kind of tired myself, could use the pick-me-up for the trip home.”

 _Home_. That word liked to rattle around in her head lately and hearing him say it gave her pause.  She’d often thought lately about what home could mean.  She was starting to think it might mean Preston.

“Sounds good, I’ll come find you when I’m done.” She flashed him a shaky smile as she walked backwards, not wanting to turn away but not wanting to look either.

She finally turned away and took a deep breath.   _For fuck’s sake,_ she thought, _stop acting like this.  How many shirtless dudes have you seen in this wasteland?  Why is this different?_

She spared a glance behind her, just in time to see Preston take a bowl of water from the trough and dump it over his head.  That only made it worse, honestly.  As she watched him run a hand over his head and put his hat back on, all she could think was that it wasn’t fair.

Did he _have_ to look like that?  And be like he was?  It wasn’t fair that he was handsome as hell and good as heaven to go with it; and it wasn’t fair that she couldn’t do anything about it.

She looked back one more time and watched as he took his vest and shirt off the porch fence and disappeared into the house.

She kept thinking about what Blake had said, about Preston worrying about her.  She put the thought behind her as she knelt down to fix the motor on the little machine gun turret at the edge of the farm, noticing the grey clouds forming in the sky and the smell of rain just starting to fill the air.  The day was going to be humid, that was for sure.

 

////

The rain broke free as they walked back to Sanctuary and Sofia was _living_ for it.

Rain was her happy place, and the fact that she could still enjoy it was a miracle to her.  Something simple, sure, but 200 years changes a lot in a landscape. Hell, it could’ve been radiated. Instant death sentence from the sky! But it wasn’t, so she reveled in it.

She held her arms out to the side and spun around in circles, face pointed to the sky, feeling each drop roll across her face. She stomped through the puddles, splashing as hard as she could.  At one point she just stood there, staring upward with her mouth open like some people might do with snowflakes.

She just loved rain, she didn’t know why.  She caught Preston staring at her out of the corner of her eye, the look on his face a judgmental one.

“What is it, Cowboy?” she laughed as she spun around in another circle, “Don’t like the rain?”

“Not particularly, no.” He said with a level of disdain she’d only heard from him when they talked about Gunners.

“Why not?” Sofia asked, brushing her bangs out of her eyes.

“Lots of reasons.  Tactical reasons, uncomfortable reasons,” he paused for a beat, “Quincy reasons.”

“Oh shit, I forgot it had been raining in Quincy.”

“Doesn’t really matter,” he said, flashing what she was sure was a forced smile, “Better question is why do _you_ like it so much?”

Sofia put her finger to her chin, “Hmm…never really thought about it before.  I just think it’s nice.  I like the smell and I like the sounds.  It’s comforting for me, I think.  Feels like it washes away some of the mess of life.”

“I guess that makes sense,” he laughed, a real laugh this time, “I’ve just never been partial to it.”  They were quickly approaching the bridge into Sanctuary.

Sofia got a wild idea and decided to act on it before losing her nerve.  She ran back to him and grabbed his hand.

“Sofia, what are you doing?”

“C’mon, Cowboy,” she grinned at him, “Spin around with me, it’s fun!”

“I really don’t think-“

Before he could finish, she’d grabbed his other hand and was doing her damndest to spin them both in a circle.  He didn’t resist for long and soon they were both spinning and laughing.

“See?  It’s more fun than you think, you just have to let it be.”

“Maybe,” he said, “But I’m still not sure it’s for me. But if it makes you happy, it can’t be too bad.”

They were still laughing when Sturges met them on the bridge.

“Hey you guys,” he ran over, a little out of breath and soaking wet, “Saw you coming from up the hill, thought I’d give you fair warning, we got a visitor and she ain’t none too happy.”

“Who is it?” Sofia asked, “Is it Piper?  Piper’s a little mad right now.”  Preston shot her a curious glance, she shook her head, “Another story for later.”

“Nope, says she’s with the Minutemen; says she’s a ranking officer and wants a word with whoever keeps messing around.”

“Wait,” said Preston, “There _aren’t_ any ranking officers besides Sofia and me yet, we aren’t big enough for that.  What’s her name?”

Sofia watched as a thin woman with short black hair tucked under a beret walked around the side of her house.  She was older, maybe mid-50’s, and from the look on her face she was not in a good mood.

“Ronnie Shaw,” said Sturges, “That ring a bell for you?”

“Is that her?” Sofia asked, pointing to the woman now leaning against her house, “Cuz if that’s her she really doesn’t look happy.”

“Oh shit,” said Preston, “I didn’t even think she was still alive.”

“Mister Garvey,” the woman hollered, “And this person you _think_ is the General.  Could I have a word?”

Ronnie turned and walked away, but Sofia heard her front door open and then slam.

This was shaping up to be a fun rainy-day afternoon.


End file.
